The Duck and the Raven
by Tigers and Dragons
Summary: He thought he was content with their ending, staying with Ahiru, keeping her company at her pond. But he could no longer bear the dissatisfaction. It was time to make a change. Inspired by the Gypsy folk tale, 'The Black Hen', Fakir undertakes to change their futures, by writing a story about the only character that matters, Ahiru.
1. Eine Fortsetzung

**Standard Disclaimer**

* * *

**The Duck and The Raven  
**

* * *

The dying light of the sun shone through the branches as leaves drifted down to the surface of the pond, marking the end of another day. Fakir roused as the warmth died around him.

With a start, he jerked upright, searching for that small yellow body that was as dear as his own. He sighed in relief as he spotted her, nestled among the reeds, still dozing peacefully. Though he was loathed to waken her, he did not relish the thought of leaving without her, not even for one night.

"Come on." He called, as he stood.

Duck startled, and scrambled up the bank to follow him as he walked away. Unable to match his long strides with her smaller legs, she waddled comically after him, scurrying along as fast as she was able.

He looked down, a slight smile gracing his usually stern features, as she came level with him. He slowed down so she could keep up and they made their way through the streets to his home.

Their home.

* * *

He lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. He could see Ahiru, nestled in her basket beneath the window. The moonlight shone through the panes, illuminating her downy feathers with a silver sheen.

He turned his head away, the sight inspiring memories of Princess Tutu; a person no one remembered existing.

Life continued in the village, but he was stuck, left with the knowledge of those dramatic events and the girl he cared for reduced to a small, clumsy bird. He knew she remained conscious in that form, he could see it in her eyes. But she'd always known she was just a duck.

"Ahiru." He whispered, turning back to look upon her once more. She shifted, and for a moment he feared he had woken her. She would worry that he wasn't sleeping. He couldn't stand to see her fret. It caused deep feelings of guilt to build up inside.

He had promised he would stay by her side forever and she seemed content with it, being a duck. But he could not watch her, always innocent, and not recall the person she had been.

He could never tell but he missed that girl, with all his heart.

He would stay with her, keep her safe, for as long he was able, but the pain of her presence and her absence struck him deep inside, growing with each passing day.

He had never felt so helpless.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, recalling her determination to achieve her goals, despite being only a duck. He felt worse, that he, who was far more capable, could not find a way to achieve their happy ending.

Then he shot upright, an epiphany striking.

He'd despaired of writing for Mytho, the stories never came true, but Ahiru… He could write for her.

He stumbled from the bed, to his desk, grabbing his quill and paper, he hunched over the desk as he began the ending for her story.

* * *

_There once was a duck, who dreamed of being a girl. Again._

_Though she enjoyed her life, swimming around the pond in the sunshine every day and nestled safe and warm at night, she longed to return to human form._

_Alas, she had thought of no way to accomplish her dream, and was left to remember her days as a graceful dancer._

_Every night, under the light of the stars, she would dance in remembrance of her past. With the moon as her spotlight, she spun and twirled in glorious homage to her memories, unknowing she had an audience._

"_You dance well, little duck." A voice called from the tree._

_Suddenly frightened, the duck searched for her guest, discovering a raven perched in the lower branches, watching her leeringly._

"_Thank you." She replied quietly, backing away from his leering gaze._

"_What inspires you to dance?"_

"_I… I long to be human, to dance as they do." She whispered._

"_I could make you human." The raven croaked._

"_Really?" She asked, fear forgotten as she naively trusted the dark bird._

"_Of course, it is well within my power. I am a powerful raven, and I would be honoured to see you dance." The raven's eyes shone in the dim light, his form shrouded in growing shadows, "You will be human again, if you marry me."_

_The duck recoiled, the idea abhorrent. Her distaste was obvious and the raven was offended._

"_You scorn me, duck?" His eyes glinted red and he grew larger, a wind whipping around the tree and disturbing the water._

"_Oh, please, I didn't mean to be rude." The duck cried, cowering in terror as the wind picked up._

"_Ungrateful wretch." The raven glowered, "I curse you here and now. Every night you shall become human for one hour, to dance in remembrance and regret. But it will never last longer."_

"_Please! I'm sorry." The duck cried again, tears streaming down her face as the raven huffed._

"_Only by humiliation will this curse be lifted. Only a man willing to marry a duck will be able to release you from it." With a malicious laugh, the raven flew away, leaving the sad little duck alone in the pond as the dawn broke over the world._

* * *

_Fakir?_ Ahiru spun round, searching for him. Waking up in the pond at daybreak was disorientating. How had she come to be here, when she remembered following him home?

A cool wind blew across the water and she shivered, remnants of her dream striking fear into her heart. She cried out, leaving the water to look for his chair. She found it but he was not there.

He did not come at all that day.

The sunset spilled like fire across the sky and Ahiru swam slowly in circles around the pond. Fakir had not fetched her for the night. She paddled sadly across to the rushes, trying in vain to build a nest. As clumsy as she had been a girl, she was with feathers. Not for the first time she wished she could have been always as graceful as Princess Tutu.

But she was a duck, not a swan.

The night grew colder and she shivered, unused to the outside at dark. She startled as something moved in the shadows, but nothing approached. Feeling silly but still on edge, she left her makeshift roost by Fakir's seat and approached the pond. As she slipped into the water, a familiar feeling rippled through her body.

She broke the surface, gasping, to feel the chill wind on her bare skin. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to warm her body and fell over in shock.

She had arms, and hands. Her feet were no longer webbed but smooth and dainty at the end of long legs. She touched her face and gasped, her beak was gone. She cried out with joy, rediscovering her human form and dancing with exuberance at her return.

"It worked."

She spun round to face the intruder on her happiness as Fakir splashed out into the pond. He raised her up and spun her round, a wide smile gracing his face while she stared down at him in shock.

"Fakir?"

"It worked, Ahiru! I did it!" He cried, staring up at her with adoration.

Mortification overcame their joy, as they realised her transformation remained as always, without clothes. Hurriedly shrugging out of his jacket and draping it around her, Fakir helped her onto land.

"How did you…" She started to ask, but his hand against her cheek stopped her words.

"I wrote for you." He answered quietly.

"The raven? It was real?" Her eyes filled with tears, remembering her awful dream, one she'd hoped was not real. "Why did you do that? He scared me!"

Fakir hugged her to him, whispers of apologies not leaving his lips. He couldn't be sorry, not when it had given them this chance.

Instead, he asked her for something she would not be able to refuse, "Dance with me?"

She stared up at him, the starlight shining on unshed tears, a smile fighting through her sadness. He raised her hand in his, and they danced.

Words that could not be spoken were shouted out in movement as they danced; remembering their past, their joy and regrets and joining their spirits in an act of love.

The hour ended far too soon.

As he walked slowly back to his house, cradling her in his arms, Fakir made a new promise. He would finish their story and give them both their happy ending.


	2. Der Ursprung der Geschichte

**The Duck and her Knight  
**

* * *

Ahiru waited in anticipation as the day ended and the shadows of night grew long, excited to have the chance to be a girl once more. Fakir sat watching her, amused as she fluffed her feathers and fidgeted around the room.

They hadn't returned to the pond that day, instead spending the hours reading quietly together in his room, until the sun had set and she'd begun to twitch and squirm. Her restlessness was endearing to him, for he could recall her childish enthusiasm during the story.

The night drew on, the hands on the clock moving progressively towards midnight; her nerves were winding her tighter and tighter. When the town clock struck twelve, she let out an undignified squawk and flew at him, landing in his lap.

He caught her, falling backwards on the bed. His cheeks red from embarrassment from what he expected to find when he looked up. Instead of her excited face, he saw a beak. She stared at him in confusion and he could see the tears threatening to overflow.

"No!" Disappointment tore through him as he voiced his denial of reality, "No! This isn't the end."

Hugging her to his chest, he stood and rushed from the room, from the house; the doors swinging behind him in his haste.

He raced down the street, through the trees to the pond. Without a second thought, he waded out into the depths and lowered her to the water, praying fervently that this would trigger her transformation, unsure what he would do if it failed.

She shivered and dipped beneath the surface and squawked once more as that familiar feeling rippled through her. Fakir watched in fascination as her small feathery form elongated into the girl he loved.

Dragging her out of the water and into his arms, he held her to him. Her lack of clothing made no difference after the uncertainty they'd both experienced.

"This can't go on." He whispered, his face buried in her hair, "I won't let it."

"Fakir?" She murmured, grasping his shirt. He shed it quickly, wrapping it around her shivering form. He leaned into her hand as she reached up to caress his face.

"Fakir, dance with me?"

And they danced.

They shed their sorrows, their worries, their disappointments, and danced, rejoicing in their love and their happiness in being together. It was a flawless celebration of their hopes and dreams and it was over far too soon.

Once more wrapped in his shirt, he cradled her close as he made the cold, weary trek back to their home, determination thrumming through him that this be the last time this happened.

* * *

Ahiru woke as a duck, her head tucked beneath her wing, in the centre of Fakir's bed with the morning sun shining down upon her. Fakir was not in his room and she left to locate him, ruffling her feathers to ward off her concern.

He sat at the table poring over a book, his morning repast remaining untouched; pushed out of the way. She gathered herself and hopped onto the seat beside him and he glanced down, her very own secretive smile gracing his lips while he smoothed down the feathers on her neck. She would much rather have felt the caress as a girl.

"I think I've found a way, Ahiru." He murmured, "It won't be long."

He fed her his toast and drank his cold tea, before clearing the dishes away and gathering her up. She noticed then, that he'd dressed in one of his finest shirts, the dark blue material soft against her feathered body. It seemed whatever errand he was intent on required a good presentation. She shivered with the thought as they left their house and ventured into the town.

He shied away from the main streets and she wondered why until one lady caught sight of him. Their conversation was stilted as Fakir tried to escape without being unjustly harsh. The woman's curiosity of her presence was what sent Fakir running, pleading an urgent meeting to escape her interest.

It seemed they'd crossed the entire town before he slowed, still checking the cross roads furtively. He finally stopped outside a small chapel, hidden behind a row of trees and a wrought iron fence. It was set back, away from the road and the neighbouring houses, seemingly overcome by the shadow of the town wall.

He walked up the path to the door, even as Ahiru stared in curiosity at the aged tombstones that jutted out of the unkempt lawn. He stopped on the doorstep, gathered his courage and drew himself upright. Then he rapped, commandingly, on the door, three times.

"Come in, come in." A weak voice called from within and Fakir pushed the door open to reveal a tired looking old man in priestly garb, approaching them along the centre aisle.

"Ah, young man. What brings you here today?" The priest asked, his voice thready as if the weight of history was laid on his shoulders. "Come to study the windows, perhaps? Or take a rubbing of the tomb?"

"No." Fakir replied quietly, though the priest continued without noticing the interruption.

"Or maybe you wish to learn the history of this little chapel? No, young people never want to learn." The priest shook his head and turned away, shoulders hunched against rejection, "No one seems to mind that we have decayed here. Here, where so much has been done."

"Wait! This is the church, isn't it? The one where Drosselmeyer was buried?"

The priest stopped his muttering and slowly turned to face his visitor, "So you know? Have you come to deface his tomb as well? Little remains of him in this town, yet the tomb is always a vandal's target."

"No, I came for a different reason." Fakir answered, stepping forward.

"Do I know you, boy?" The priest peered up at him as he approached.

"I want a new end to the story." Fakir stated quietly, "I want you to perform a ceremony."

"So, you're one of them. It is fitting you came here." The priest replied, scratching his cheek below his watery blue eyes, "What ceremony do you wish performed?"

"A wedding."

"For whom?"

Ahiru tensed, emotions heightened. The next few moments marked either their new beginning or a crushing end. Fakir's arm tightened around her as he took a deep breath, "Myself and Ahiru."

"Ahiru? You wish to marry a duck?" The priest stepped back in shock before drawing himself upright, cloaking his frail, old body in the dignity of his station, "Young man, there are laws against bestiality. I do not take kindly to this… this affront to the church!"

"There is more at work here than you know." Fakir said heatedly, his face stern as he stood over the priest, "I have come here for a particular purpose: to finish what _he_ began."

"Drosselmeyer's sins were paid for with his own blood. He is beyond reach and influence, his or ours." The priest answered confidently.

"And yet he toyed with us, leaving unseen scars that pull everyday." Fakir argued, pulling out the book he'd been so intent on that morning. "This was not finished."

The priest's eyes widened at the sight of the cover. _The Prince and the Raven_ was emblazoned in gold across the leather, the pages were yellow with age. "That was sealed."

"They escaped." Fakir shrugged, tossing the book to the priest and bringing his hand up to smooth over Ahiru's back. "And in so doing, wreaked havoc with the lives of this town."

Flipping to the end of the story, the priest stood quietly and read the last pages. The story had changed, but had become so much more, so poignantly beautiful. "So tragic."

He raised his rheumy eyes to the young man before him, cradling the duck with care, as if he held his entire life in that one precious bundle. "Very well. I will do this for you."

Ahiru relaxed, relieved that the tension had drained from the air but Fakir still stood stiffly.

"How soon can it be done?"

"Three days." The priest replied. "It will take three days, and the proper procedure must be followed."

Fakir turned to leave, "Do what you must."


	3. Stockenden Fortschritte

**For the Love of a Duck**

* * *

Rumours flew around the town that a wedding would be held at the Drosselmeyer Chapel, and while many of the townsfolk knew little about that meddler with fate, the misgivings of the very old were heard and spread. The idea of such an event taking place in that cursed church was abhorrent to those who remembered and the discontent flavoured the gossip appetizingly.

Fakir and Ahiru spent the next day in solitude at their pond, undisturbed by the uproar that gripped the town. If he felt any misgivings with continuing the story, Fakir never showed them. It was another issue that worried him. He had been concerned that if his plan was made public he would be locked away, separated forever from her, but it seemed the old priest had remained silent.

Still, Ahiru danced alone that night, her heart full of hope and excitement. She twirled and spun gracefully around the clearing, while Fakir sat in his chair, watching.

He saw her long, elegant legs, ending in delicate feet, perfectly pointed to finish each movement. He saw her lithe arms, deposed gracefully as an extension of her exuberance. He hadn't realised before now but she'd aged just as he had; a discovery he was extremely grateful for. As her height had remained in proportion to his, he'd previously overlooked the change. It surprised him, at the back of his mind, that her duck form hadn't changed from small and yellow.

She spun round the chair, her fingers grazing along his shoulder and down his arm, rousing him from his thoughts. She flashed him a smile and he returned it briefly before worrying his lip as his mind turned back to his doubts once more.

The priest had said it would have to be done properly, which concerned him. Three days was a long time, and there was still a possibility that obstacles could crop up: from the church, from the towns' folk, from the mayoral officials, the book men. Even Carl could cause issue.

He would not regret his choice; Ahiru was more important than his pride and social standing. She was his happy ending.

But would that help him in the face of objectors?

As he worried about the bureaucratic process and the social and political forces that may stand against him, doubt crept in. Yes, she was his happy ending, but was he hers? Was it selfish of him to grant her humanity just to chain her to him in marriage? Was he any better than the Raven he'd written; he offered the same terms for the same outcome…

The town clock struck the hour, breaking him from his vexing thoughts and he searched the clearing for her.

She stood, bathed in moonlight by the pond, her arms raised in the mime for "I love you", a sad smile on her face.

He was shaken, breathless, watching the ethereal display as her human form faded like a shower of stars twinkling out and his shirt fell to the ground in a heap.

Ahiru gave a ruffled quack from within the material and he sighed. He'd missed their hour, concerned with their future when he should have been enjoying their present.

He gathered up his shirt, unwrapping it to free her and smiled. She settled contently in his arms and they returned to his home.

* * *

They returned to the pond the next day, settling in to their old habits, seeking the calm of their past. It was quite different now and the remembrance of the last few years was a soothing balm. Fakir leafed through his book of the day, reading random passages before moving on. Occasionally, he'd look up to watch Ahiru swimming around the pond. She was so calm; it relaxed him to simply observe her.

But their peace didn't last uninterrupted. Halfway through the day, a changing breeze carried a hushed conversation across the clearing as trio of school girls arranged themselves under the trees to enjoy their lunch.

His ears perked up and he straightened. Ahiru stilled, in the water, the breadcrumbs she'd been eating from his hands going untouched as they both concentrated on the barely audible words.

"Amazing that they'd choose there though…"

"I think…" The girl's voice faded as the wind dropped then picked up again, "Haunted."

"The names are supposed to be secret but…"

Fakir tensed, and shifted in their direction.

"No one knows?"

He relaxed momentarily when the answer came as a negative, though no mention had been made as to the subject of the conversation. Then the word 'wedding' floated along the breeze and he jerked.

Moving quietly, he crept towards the girls, deliberately eavesdropping on their conversation, his anxiety drawing Ahiru along as well.

"I heard it was a forbidden love," Announced one girl with a knowing smile, "And the groom almost destroyed the church when the priest refused to marry them straight away."

"How romantic!" Another girl sighed and Fakir rolled his eyes at their dramatics.

"I heard it was a runaway princess." The first girl continued, but she was interrupted by the third.

"Well, I heard that a man with a duck was seen leaving the church." The girl's tone was somewhat bored with a twist of malicious glee at ruining their ideal romantic scenarios. Fakir turned worried eyes to Ahiru, who had waddled after him and she hid behind him.

"With a duck?" The other two girls exclaimed, "That's nonsense."

Fakir held his breath, his fingers gripping the bark of the tree that shielded him so hard he risked breaking it. Ahiru peeked out from behind him, worry etched on her feathered face.

"Maybe the duck is a pet? Or a token from the princess?" The second girl ventured uncertainly, unable to create a reason for the duck's presence.

"Or maybe it's the princess!" The first girl announced dramatically, "And she's under a terrible curse!"

There was a pause before all three girls broke into giggles.

"That's silly." The second girl laughed while the third muttered, "Those sorts of things only happen in stories."

Fakir backed away, his face creased in a frown as Ahiru scrambled to avoid his feet. She could tell he was worried as he returned to his chair for his book, lost in thought. He picked it up and stared at it intensely, a wild look entering his eyes.

The story he had written had been simple: Ahiru returned, they married, then the story ended. He was prepared to step away from a written future after that. But something wasn't right, the story was becoming complicated.

"Ahiru, we need to go." He said urgently. The story was changing, it was already different. He needed to find his manuscript.

Ahiru waddled after him as he headed away from the pond, growing increasingly worried at the change in the atmosphere. She'd never seen the stories he'd written. The previous one had ended with her as a duck and ducks don't need to read. She didn't know what was happening but she could tell he was troubled. She quacked a little as the gap between them lengthened; she was unable to keep up.

The sound startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced back. To her surprise, instead of waiting for her to reach him, he turned back and scooped her up, hugging her to his chest.

"The story has changed, Ahiru." He said, quickening his pace, "I think something's wrong."

* * *

For Fakir, the rest of the day passed in a haze of confusion and anxiety. He was right; the story had altered from its written course but he could find no reason for it.

Ahiru was his character. When he'd failed to write for Mytho, he'd continued the story through her. She's been wrested from Drosselmeyer's clutches through their combined efforts, supported by their denial of his chosen fate for them both. He would not die in vain and she would not turn into a speck of light.

Yet, the pages of his manuscript told a different story to the one he'd written. His own handwriting chronicled dramatic twists, which he'd deliberately avoided. He read through their story again, eyes widening as he realised the truth.

He should have seen it before. When Ahiru didn't change that first night, the story had already been altered. When the priest refused to perform the service, the story had diverted from its course. Panic gripped him as the consequences of his discovery sank in.

Would their story become alive, like _the Prince and the Raven_, with the characters changing their roles? Had he come too close to the original by involving that dreaded bird? Who was making the changes now?

The world seemed to grow darker, a strong wind came up around the house and the shutters banged against the windows. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the thunder boomed, sending Ahiru flying into him. Rain sheeted down over Goldcrown Town, a sudden, dramatic deluge as the story shifted and Fakir and Ahiru stood together, man and duck, as the door to their house was flung open and the lightning illuminated a dark hunched figure in the doorway.


End file.
